Playing with Sirens: A Tail of the Completely Hope
by hauntinglybluesy
Summary: A call from one of John Winchester's old friends, Jackson DuBois, has Sam and Dean heading up to Spokane, Washington to investigate the strange happenings in a Costco warehouse. They never expected to find what they did, and it may just kill Dean.
1. Chapter 1

--Disclaimer: I do not own Sam and Dean Winchester (I wish I did, if even for a little while), and am not affiliated with the show in any way. However, I do own this idea and the other characters in the story.--

**Present Day…Approximately 3:30 pm.**

"Screw it! I don't give a damn if this siren gets what she wants!" Dean would have thrown something if he'd had something to throw. As

it was, he and Sam were standing in the middle of a dirt lane with nothing but a stand of trees and the Impala in sight. Sam was a bit

surprised by Dean's outburst; after all it had been Dean's idea to do this job.

"What the hell's your problem, Dean?"

Dean faced his brother, frowning, angry. "My problem? My problem is that this job ain't worth dyin' over. This life has taken Mom. It's

taken Dad. It's even taken you."

"But I'm back, Dean." Sam couldn't understand what was making his brother act this way and he didn't know what to say to make him

snap out of it.

"Yeah, only because I traded my life for yours…Don't get me wrong, Sammy, I'd do it again. But I can't do this any more. I'm done;

count me out. I don't have anything left to give." There was a tired quality to Dean's voice that spoke of more than the family business

taking its toll on him. Dean turned and walked down the dirt lane to the waiting Impala, leaving Sam staring at his back.

It was the first time Sam had ever seen his brother willingly walk away from a job and it made his blood run cold.

**Two and a half months earlier…4:58 pm.**

Sam glanced at his watch for the fifth time in the past hour. Dean should have been back by now. He worried a lot more about Dean

now and him being late wasn't helping matters any. Finally, Sam pushed aside his 17th century Latin book, pen and paper, and strode to

the window. Relief poured through him as soon as he saw the Impala stopped at the four-way stop down the street. He turned around in

the small room and went back to his book. He didn't want Dean to know he'd been worried; it would only earn him another "sissy"

crack. Sam had settled into the dingy, battered chair and just grabbed the Latin book when a car door slammed outside. Seconds later

the room door swung open, admitting Dean, and was slammed shut behind him.

Muttering under his breath, Dean crossed the room to his bed, stooped to grab his duffle bag from under the bed and flung it onto the

rumpled covers. Still muttering, Dean began tossing items in the bag, ignoring Sam. Confusion marred Sam's features as he watched his

brother. Tired of being ignored, he got up, walked up behind Dean and smacked upside the head. Ignoring Dean's "Oww!!," Sam

spoke. "What the hell are you doing, Dean?"

"What's it look like I'm doing, Sam. I'm packing. I suggest you do the same." A glare accompanied his words. "We're leaving."

"Dean…What? No. We're not leaving. We are staying here and figuring out how to get you out of your deal."

"Can't. Just got a call from Jackson DuBois."

"Dad's old buddy?" The look of confusion was back. "What did he want?"

Dean elbowed Sam out of the way and grabbed a few things from the table and returned to the bed shoving them inside his bag. "He

caught wind of a job for us in his area. It sounds serious. At least Jackson sounded serious." Sam finally got his ass moving, packing up

his laptop and the stack of books sitting on the table.

"Where are we heading?"

Dean finished zipping his duffle, then looked straight at Sam.

"To Costco."

"What the hell!?" Sam let his backpack drop from his shoulder, furious with Dean for his stupid joke. Then he realized Dean was dead

serious. "You're serious?" He asked, just in case.

"The Costco we're going to is in Spokane, Washington." They both picked up their bags and headed for the door. It wasn't until they

were on the road that something occurred to Sam and he had to ask, although he wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer. "Dean,

how do you know about Costco?" Sam watched his brother mumble and squirm before Dean finally answered. "They got the best

muffins. I love me some muffins."

--A/N: I appreciate reviews, both good and bad. Thanks for reading and if you like it, there will be more.--


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **So I thought this chapter was a lot longer but oh well. As always I don't own Sam and Dean, blah blah blah. Reviews are appreciated and may encourage me to write faster. Please enjoy.**  
**

**Same Day…4:58pm, Spokane's Costco  
**

Jackson DuBois settled onto the seat attached to the table in the Costco food court. He'd been here every day for the past few weeks.

At first he wasn't sure if he was seeing correctly; in all his years he'd never seen one this far inland or this far west either, for that matter.

Now that he'd been watching, he knew…and Jackson called the only people that he trusted to fix this problem: John Winchester's boys.

Jackson wanted to do a little investigating himself but the crutches that he used prevented any and all stealthy movement. So all he could

do was watch. Watch and tell Dean and Sam what he knew and what he had seen. Jackson knew it had taken up residence in the

warehouse somewhere at night and made itself scarce in the morning before the building opened for business. He had yet to find out

where. Jackson ducked his head, keeping his eyes away from it's hypnotic gaze. The reaction time was faster each time she…_it_, glanced

his way. Soon her gaze would catch his and he'd be screwed.

The young man it was now talking to was already smitten, Jackson could tell, but something else was holding him back; keeping him from

following her commands. She was getting frustrated.

_**Manny's POV 4:40pm Costco**_

_I felt someone staring at me and I turned around, searching the shoppers. I finally spotted her. She looked at me, I looked at _

_her; if it wasn't so cheesy, I'd say that it was love at first sight. She was gorgeous, and something about her smokey blue eyes _

_drew me to her. I walked towards her, my mother giving me a strange look until she noticed the girl. A goofy frown covered her_

_ face; I knew she was thinking that it was my raging teenage hormones. I put my attention back on the girl…my girl. Wow, did I _

_really just think that? I may only be seventeen, but I don't say or think cheesy things. I just don't. Surprisingly I was able to _

_converse easily with her. Normally I'm very awkward and clumsy around girls. This girl, Jessamyn, was doing something to me,_

_ but I don't know what. She asks me to go with her, somewhere, I think she said one of the back rooms. I want to go, her eyes _

_beg me to. But something restrains me and after a few more minutes I hear myself say that I can't and that I have to go. _

_Somehow, I walk away from her. I see a grizzled old man with a set of crutches staring thoughtfully at me. I caught up to Mom _

_in the checkout line, my gaze straying back to Jessamyn. My heart sank, seeing her chatting with another guy, the way she had _

_with me._


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

Sam and Dean's meeting with Jackson went as well as could be expected. Sam vaguely remembered meeting Jackson years ago when

the guy still had both of his legs. Dean must remember him more, at least he seemed to.

Jackson settled comfortably in an easy chair, motioning for the boys to take a seat on the battered couch. Dean cut in before Jackson

even had a chance to begin speaking. "So what's the deal?"

"Guys are disappearing, never to be seen again. Fact is, I know what's doing it, even how. I called y'all 'cause I can't take care of the

problem myself." He glared down at his missing leg. Sam's curiosity was beginning to get the best of him, not only because they needed

the info for the job but because somehow he knew it wouldn't be easily believed. "So what is it?"

Jackson smiled grimly. "You're not gonna believe it, guys. It's a Siren."

Dean let out a laugh. "You're kidding, right? A friggin' Siren? Mythological creature that lures sailors to their deaths by seducing them

with a song? Right. I thought that they lived on an Italian coast anyway." Sam stared at Dean in shock. Usually he was the one that knew

about things, not Dean. Dean shrugged at the look Sam gave him. "What? The dude in detention had a degree in Mythological

Anthropology or something like that. He'd tell stories for about an hour every day and I'd listen. Besides, the idea of a beautiful naked

woman seducing men to their deaths was kinda intriguing." Sam sighed inwardly. Of course Dean had paid attention; a woman—scratch

that—a beautiful naked woman was involved. Dean was never going to change and the truth of the matter was that Sam really didn't

want him to.

After talking a while longer to Jackson, Sam and Dean went back to there motel room. Sam fired up his laptop, heeding Jackson's

suggestion that they do more research before jumping right in, and sent Dean off to the library to get a couple of mythology books. Dean

returned a short time later, arms laden with more books than one would have expected.

Hours later Dean sighed as he set aside yet another book. "Whatcha got, Sam?" Sam looked up from the screen, rubbing his eyes.

"There's a number of different accounts, but most often Sirens are seen with the head of a woman on the body of an eagle—of which

form is a relative of Harpies—or the head and torso of a woman and the lower half of a fish or even a seabird. Some say that Sirens

appear to have some sort of shape-shifting ability for they've appeared as beautiful women before turning into their true form of hideous

creatures."

"That's pretty much what all these books say. What do the sites say about where they live?"

Sam glanced back at the screen. "Not much. Just that they usually reside off the coasts of Italy."

"Huh. A couple of these books say that Sirens live in small colonies of 3-8 females and that because there's never been mention of a

male Siren, it stands to reason that Sirens have a lifecycle that spans a number of centuries and could explain their thirst for the blood of

human men."

"That's…sick." Sam's face twisted with a look of disgust. "So what else ya got?"

"Ok, so they favor small rock islands that are well equipped with reefs and shoals which can break up the ships they attract. Nobody

knows what the Siren song sounds like, but it's thought to contain knowledge and the promise of unearthly, exotic pleasure. Says that if

you hear the song you're so screwed and that there's no known means to kill them."

"Not exactly. You can force them to commit suicide by drowning out their song with a more attractive tune. Another legend says that

Sirens are fated to die whenever a man does not fall under their spell. They can also be killed by any weapons known to man if you are

able to resist their song. Says in ancient times Odysseus used wax to plug the ears of his crew; other methods are to wear headphones

or earmuffs."

"Okay, then let's get this bitch. What I wanna know is how it wound up here?" Dean said, grabbing the car keys.

* * *

He watched from the security room, immersed in the darkness as his…acquisition lured guy after guy away; he assumed she killed them,

but he didn't care to find out. It was pure luck that he'd found her on that trip to Italy. He'd seen her, on the distant shore, naked,

beautiful, and he wanted her. He had done a little research and devised a way to capture her, and once captured she revealed her true

form, a old, wrinkled, scaly woman with the body of a fish. Despite the repulsiveness, he was too enraptured with her other form to care

and made a deal. _Yes,_ he thought, images of her underneath him rushing through his mind, _it was an excellent deal. Well worth _

_whatever trouble she may bring._

****

* * *

****

**_A/N: So anyway no reviews, no more chapters. You know what to do. _**


	4. Author's Note

**Ok, y'all. This is just a quick Author's Note, letting y'all know that I haven't died or fallen of the face of the planet. Life's just a bitch sometimes, ya know? Anyway, I have some really big presentations and papers due between now and the first week and a half of December, and I've started a Dark Angel fic (which will never be finished or posted. Trust me, it's complete crap; I just needed to get the idea out of my head) so look for the next update the 2****nd**** or 3****rd**** week of December. Feel free to send me a message if ya wanna yell at me about it (or anything else related to the fic). Thanks for reading, y'all. I really love getting reviews, so thank you to those of you that have.  
**


	5. Chapter 4

_A/N: Sorry this took so long to get posted. I had some computer problems and then there was the whole baking dozens upon dozens of Christmas cookies_._ This story has evolved so far from what I originally intended; it was supposed to be from Manny's POV. Anyway, so here it is and I'd like to thank those of you who did review the last chapter.  
_

* * *

Hours later Sam and Dean dropped onto their respective beds, with nothing but weariness to show for their recon mission. Maybe 

they would find something when they went with Jackson in five hours.

WWWWWWWWWWWW

Dean nearly growled when the day turned into a bust. This job was getting nowhere fast. As of now, he, Sam and Jackson were in a

nearby park, trying to make some sense in this case. Dean turned to Jackson. "Now you said you've been watching for days, right?"

"Yeah, and I've noticed that she seems to be targeting people. These men she's choosing aren't random. She'd wait for someone

specific to show up, then she would walk directly up to that person…the man is never heard from again. Few days ago, though, a

young guy resisted. I don't know how."

"Wait. So she turned on all her charm…whatever…and he wasn't affected?" Dean's incredulous voice carried in the crisp evening air

and both of his companions shot him a 'keep-your-voice-down-dammit' look before Jackson spoke. "Oh, he was affected, alright, but

he was able to resist somehow."

"Right, so you know who this kid is?" Sam interjected.

"Yeah, I did some digging, got an address. Well, two actually; 452 North Baltimore Street and 494 West Central Street. Not that far

from here; I'll head back to the warehouse, keep an eye out and you guys check out this Manny kid."

The boys agreed and the three of them headed off towards their destinations.

* * *

They found Manny at the second address and had to chase him down after he decided to run. A flying tackle from Dean brought the 

kid to the ground and Manny let out a cry of pain as he hit the frozen earth. Sam skidded to a stop inches from them, his breath icy

puffs as he spoke. "Calm down. We just want to ask you some questions."

"Why? Hey, are you guys cops? Government?"

"Yeah, sure. Okay, kid, I'm gonna get up now. You gonna stay put?" A slight nod answered Dean's question and he got to his feet,

pulling the slight-framed, blonde-haired kid with him.

WWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

"Well, that was a whole lotta nothing!" Frustration dripped from every word out of Dean's mouth and Sam knew that same

dissatisfaction. Once they got Manny to start talking he wouldn't shut up and nothing that fell from his mouth was useful in any way.

Sam sighed. "Let's just go find Jackson, see if he's spotted the Siren today."

"Fine," Dean opened the Impala's door, "get in."

* * *

Jackson's eyes ached. He'd spent the past five hours covertly scanning the entire warehouse. His ass hurt from sitting so long and the 

phantom pain that sometimes accosted his non-existent leg had flared up with all its strength. _Damn it, I'm getting too old for this _

_crap._ He was still running through the reasons why he was too old when Dean tapped his shoulder. "Hey, Jackson, ya see anything?"

"What? Oh. No. No activity today."

The three men shared a look, knowing that the Siren wasn't going to stop killing until somebody stopped her. Again Sam let out a sigh,

glancing towards the door marked 'Employees Only'. "We're going to need to break in and take a look at the surveillance footage;

maybe we'll find something.

WWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

It was hell getting past the cameras and into the building, but between the two Winchester brothers they got it done without tripping any

alarms. They both thought it was strange that there were no guards on duty. Sam silently and expertly picked the lock adorning the

'Employees Only' door, pushing it open and followed his brother into the room. From there, they crossed the area to another locked

door, behind which was all of the security measures.

The security cameras had captured exquisitely clear footage of their quarry and her victims. After examining the electronics in the

vault-like room, Sam nodded, at which Dean tossed him the bag they'd brought with. Fifteen minutes later, Sam had set up everything

so that using a patch cord on both his laptop and the recorder he was able to transfer the recorded video onto the hard drive.

* * *

_A/N2: Remember, no reviews, no more updates. :) Oh, and I won't have anymore updates until January sometime, probably towards the end of January. _


	6. Chapter 5

_A/N: Sorry for the delay; life got in the way. I won't babble this time. On to the story!_

* * *

It took an hour for the transfer to complete and the boys got the hell out. When they got back to their motel room, Sam started up the

laptop and loaded up the footage.

"Hey, hey. See that? Go back a little." Two hours into the video Dean pointed to the screen when it reached the frame he wanted.

"See. That guy goes right up to her and tells her something. And what is that? Is he pointing to some guy?"

"Yeah, he is. It appears to be one of the men that went missing. I'll see if I can get a better look at his face and find out who he is. He

seems like he might be the one controlling the Siren."

"Great. Let me know when you got something; I'm gonna go see Jackson. Should've heard from him already."

Sam grunted as he perused the film, looking for a better angle and he made a shooing motion with his hand, to indicate that he'd heard

and that Dean could go do whatever he wanted.

* * *

Dean's unease continued to grow as he pulled into the apartment complex's parking lot. He continued through the overhang and into

the lobby, muttering to himself about the numerous security cameras in the building. Dean hung a right and entered the first stairwell,

knowing that it would be quicker taking the stairs than using the elevator. The worry gnawed at the pit of his stomach and grew

stronger as he came to a stop, slightly out of breath, in front of Jackson's apartment. The door was open a crack, the lock jimmied with

the tools still in it; Dean pushed the door open with the toe of his boot, drawing his gun as he entered the room.

In the corner, an old turntable played an eerie record; the song contained words from a foreign language, climbing octaves as each

moment passed. It wasn't something he recognized or something that he thought Jackson would listen to. There was definitely a

message there, waiting to be found. Dean made a mental note to bring the record back with him as he carefully picked his way through

the messy room, checking in the kitchen and bathroom before moving on to the bedroom. Dean found Jackson there on his bed, chest

and stomach ripped open, vital organs missing, blood everywhere; a glance around the room revealed the location of the organs. Each

one was partially eaten, pinned to the walls around the room with large nails, the kind used for railroad ties. Blood had hardened where

it dripped down the wall.

The skin and flesh on Jackson's arms was shredded, a long discolored fingernail stuck in the very visible bone. A closer look at

Jackson's head had Dean stepping back with a hand over his mouth. A portion of his skull was torn away, soft gray tissue dangling

from the opening and the rest showed evidence of teeth marks. An open mouth exposed the missing tongue, which Dean found

chopped into pieces in a bowl on the floor next to the beginning of some sort of symbol carved into the hardwood.

The myriad of curses flowing through Dean's mind refused to come out of his mouth, then his reasoning came back and he whipped out

his cell, taking as many pictures as his phone could hold, checked the room over for signs of demonic presence, any presence for that

matter, and used a paper towel he'd retrieved from the kitchen to pick up the fingernail, which he pocketed quickly. Dean fervently

hoped that Jackson hadn't been alive when his injuries were inflicted, but the voice in the back of Dean's mind loudly and incessantly

told him it wasn't the case.

In the doorway Dean paused, glancing back at Jackson one last time, then he headed towards the living room and grabbed up the

heavy gramophone. He hauled it out to the Impala and went back into the apartment to make sure that he'd left no prints or evidence

that he was ever there.

* * *

"Hey. You weren't answering your phone." The comment left Sam's mouth the second Dean closed the door behind him. Dean just

looked at him and smirked. "God, Sam, you're such a girl. I got busy with stuff." He tossed his phone to Sam as he pulled out the

wrapped fingernail. "Pull those pictures up on the computer. I'll be right back." And he set the fingernail down on the table before going

out to get the phonograph. Sam looked up from the laptop as Dean lugged it inside and heaved it onto the table. He gave Dean a look

filled with confusion.

"What's with the record player?"

"Gotta listen to this record; it was playing when I got to Jackson's. It's supposed to mean something, some kind of message, you

know. Did you get those pictures?"

"Yeah…Dean, what the hell happened there?"

"I don't know, Sam. Somebody, something, murdered Jackson and ripped him apart."

"Yes, but his brain, chopping his tongue into tiny pieces? It really wasn't necessary. And look," Sam pointed to the pictures,

"everything about this suggests serious anger issues. The organs could have been nailed to the wall with normal sized nails, but this

person used spikes for railroad ties. It takes more force to drive those in, and then the organs have all been partially eaten too.

Whatever did this seriously hates men." Sam turned in his chair to look at Dean when he stopped talking. He watched as Dean

frowned and shook his head.

"Wait a minute. So you're saying that…what are you saying, Sam?"

Sam picked up the fingernail and held to the light. He turned it in his hand strangely fascinated by it, saying nothing until he felt Dean

looking at him in askance and annoyance. "Does this really look like a fingernail to you?" He caught the frown on his brother's face.

"You know what it looks like to me? To me it looks like a talon. What do we know that has talons?"

"Oh, shit. Didn't the books say that the Sirens true form could be bird-like, kind of like their relatives, the Harpies?"

"Yeah, and they also mentioned that Sirens hunger for human male flesh or blood."

"Huh. So I'm seeing a pattern here." Dean plugged the turntable's cord into the outlet and said, "Whatcha wanna bet that this is

Italian?" as he placed the needle on the shiny black vinyl. The same haunting song that had been playing in Jackson's apartment filled

the small motel room and both boys couldn't stop the shivers that traveled up and down their spines. Sam was the first to break the

spell as he reached out and yanked the tone arm off the disc.

"That was really starting to creep me out. I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure that that was Italian."

"Ok, so what do you suppose that symbol carved into the floor meant? Is it Italian or is it something to do with mythology?"

"Don't know; I'll have to run it through some databases. Oh, I almost forgot, Dean. I got a name for that guy. It's, uh, Loren Garrison.

He's high up in the Costco chain of command. I'm still looking him up, but I got nothing on him so far; clean as a whistle."

Dean nodded and dropped onto his bed, lost in thought. Suddenly he spoke, "If he's our guy, how do you think he's controlling her?

What could he possibly offer her that would keep her from killing him? And what is she giving him in return? Oh, gross. Scratch that, I

think I know what. That's just wrong!"

"What is?"

"Sex, dude; I don't know how he got her to agree to it and I don't know why he'd even want to, assuming he knows what she is."

Dean shuddered. "God, that's disturbing, and I can't get it out of my head now."

"Man, that's…nasty. Just think of something else. Supposing the Siren has been imported from Italy, she must have an accent, right?

But Manny didn't mention one, did he? Maybe we should have another little talk with him."

* * *

_A/N 2: So I'm thinking that there are only one or two chapters left. Sound about right? Also, I'm thinking about doing a crackfic titled "The Legend of the Woot! Monkey". Would anyone be interested in reading that? Let me know if you do._  
_Tomorrow (Feb. 11th) is my birthday. Reviews would be an awesome birthday present!_


End file.
